Gatito
by NobodysHandmaid
Summary: In which Lovino, after visiting Antonio on very non-official business, gets turned into a tiny little cat.


Romano looked up at his idiot of a lover. His idiot of a lover looked back down at him. _Smiling_.

This was not how he had intended to spend his Wednesday. He was _supposed_ to be travelling back home, but he hadn't even left Spain's drive before he'd struggled out of his suddenly _huge_ clothes with two more legs than he'd started with.

"What are _you_ doing on my doorstep, gatito?"

Hands darted out and snatched up a wriggling furry body, despite the razor-sharp claws threatening to skin them.

 _^I! Will! End! You!^_ Romano yelled as loudly as he could, putting up a huge struggle - and since when had those hands been so damn strong? And _big_?!

The _moron_ just chuckled. "Aww, what a big fuss from such a tiny cat~!" he cooed.

 _Oh no he didn't_

 _^I'll bite you for that, bastard!^_ It was bad enough that Veneziano was taller, but did Spain really have to rub it in like that?

"Come on, calm down gatito," he pinned Romano's front legs to his chest and with his now free hand, started rubbing under his chin.

 _^Hey! No! This is not a damn petting z- Oh…^_ He melted as those fingers hit the most _perfect_ spot. ^ _Yes…_ _Keep doing that!^_

Spain lifted him higher and held him against his chest, smiling at the purrs. "Isn't that nicer than trying to tear my face off, gatito~?" He moved his fingers to scratch just behind his ear, gaining a new intensity of purr as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Romano would have protested, but _oh that felt so nice!_ Those fingers lightly brushed over his ribs and then _all the way down his spine!_ His tail curled to chase the hand and his eyes closed happily.

The hand paused at his neck. "Hmm… No collar. But you're too sleek not to belong to someone, gatito. And cuddly, when you stopped yelling at me!"

Romano grumbled at the lack of petting and butted at Spain's wrist. ^ _Come on, idiot! Don't stop! And I'm not someone's pet!^_

His thumb scratched at the base of an ear. "Maybe you've been chipped? I'm sure there's someone out there looking for you. You're such a cute little cat."

Romano tuned out of the rest of that little ramble and just focused on what his Spaniard was doing with his hand, but was quickly brought back to reality with a single sentence.

"So I guess I'll have to make an appointment with the vet!"

His ears flattened against his skull and his fur fluffed up. ^ _Oh, hell no! I know what goes on there, Spain! No way am I letting someone shove a thermometer up my ass!_^

"Calm down, gatito!" He tried scratching under the chin again, only to snatch back his fingers as Romano tried to bite them. "Stop yelling at me! Are you hungry? Is that it? I've got some leftover chicken in the fridge… Just let me find a bowl, then you can eat."

^ _You're useless…_^ Romano muttered. ^ _Can't even recognise me.^_ He was still crushed against that chest with one hand, the other going through the fridge while the Italian grumbled to himself. A plastic pot was dropped onto the counter and his grumbles quickly turned into a deep purr as Spain took advantage of his distraction and scratched _that one really nice spot don't you dare stop, peasant!_ under his chin.

"I'm gonna put you down while I cut up the chicken a little, okay gatito?" He walked over to close the door and set the small, irritable cat onto the floor and, before long, pushing a plate of chicken under his nose.

^ _You really expect me to eat this?^_ Had he been in his normal, _human_ , form, Romano would have been fixing his lover with Stare Number 22: Not Impressed, With a Tinge of Disdain. ^ _I cooked this, Spain. I cooked it three days ago. And plain? What the hell? If I had my normal legs, I would kick your ass so badly…^_

Spain, oblivious to this little monologue, just smiled. "Eat up! I'll make that call to the vet…"

It turned out that the vet had a free slot the next day, because the owners of the animal in question had just called to cancel in tears. Antonio, ever the lazy bastard far too eager to get out of work, agreed quickly and hung up. Romano had finally succumbed to the chicken and the next thing he knew of the Spaniard, there was a large feather shoved rudely in his face. So naturally, he batted it away.

And fluffed his coat up when he heard that Spanish jerkface laugh. And felt him flick his nose with the tip.

^ _Spaaaiiin! Quit it!_ ^ His eyes followed the path the feather traced and, more quickly than he could follow, it tickled the tips of his ears. ^ _That's it! I, Italia Romano declare war on the Kingdom of Spain… And his feather!^_ Little fluffy bottom wriggling, he pounced on the feather… Only to discover that his lover-turned- _mortal-enemy_ had moved it.

Antonio discovered what a pouting cat looks like.

…

"Come on, gatito. I'm alone tonight, so come sleep with me!"

Romano rolled his eyes. ^ _First of all, at least call me something other than "kitten". Second, it's not like you're giving me a damn choice!^_ He was once again pressed up close to Spain's warm, muscular chest with the other country's spare hand _not_ where it should properly be, worshipping him, but instead doing such unimportant things as letting them through doors and locking the house. ^ _Thirdly, w here the hell else am I going to sleep?!Outside? In the kitchen? Hell no!^_ Sleeping in an empty bed was bad enough. Sleeping alone on the floor of the living room or something would be infinitely worse.

Once up in their - _Spain's_ \- bedroom, he was dropped carefully onto the bed and Spain quickly stripped and pulled on a loose pair of pyjama bottoms. The pair that made Romano want to jump him every time he saw them. The pair that sat tauntingly low over his hip bones. The pair that cupped that perfectly formed ass in a way that should be illegal. He yowled in annoyance, kneading at the bed covers with his paws.

To be honest, they'd all of them long since given up questioning weird things in their lives. They were walking, talking countries; it doesn't really get weirder than that. But _why_ did _this_ have to happen to _him_?! When Spain took him up to curl up on a pillow, all he wanted was to pull that idiot close.

But he had to settle for sitting on his head instead, making for one of the more interesting wakeups Spain had had since Romano had stopped dive-bombing him before breakfast.

The morning went smoothly until Spain tried getting Romano inside the car.

 _^I've already told you, bastard! I'm not going to be prodded and poked and have a cold object shoved up my ass!^_

Alas for Romano, Spain had size on his side and simply held the tiny ball of rage up by the scruff of his neck at arm's length until he calmed down, before putting him in a cardboard box with an old blanket to pad him.

He was still spitting when the vet lifted him out of it and onto the examination table. He resisted at every stage the basic checkup and Spain had to hold him down to be scanned for a microchip. And then, after he had been wrestled back inside the box, the _unforgivable conversation_ occurred.

"It's possible that this aggression is due to his hormones. And if you're going to keep him, no matter what kind of behaviour he has, I'd recommend neutering him."

^WHAT?!^

"It'll make your life easier and his less stressful."

"Okay~!"

^TRAITOR!^

"We can fit him in in a couple of weeks."

"I'll put it in my diary!"

^ _SEE IF_ _ **YOU **__GET ANY SEX WHEN I'M BACK TO NORMAL!^_

"Thank you very much for this - and I'm sorry about the scratches!" Spain picked up the box with a yowling, hissing, unbelievably pissed-off little cat inside. And unfortunately for Spain, this little cat deliberately fell silent halfway home and, once the box was re-opened in their bedroom, leapt out with claws flying. The attack was stopped, but not before the Spaniard got shallow parallel scratches down one cheek.

Although Romano's anger eventually fizzled out, he stayed aloof. He would allow Spain to feed him - so long as it wasn't actual cat food - pet him - but not for too long or he'd lose a hand - and he'd sleep draped over him in various ways. The idiot still hadn't found a name for him and persisted in calling him "gatito" the. Whole. Time. He even brought him to a meeting with that musclehead potato who came away with deep scratches from politely trying to stroke Spain's new pet.

Not to mention that with every passing day, the loss of his balls came closer and closer.

…

Romano woke feeling much less comfortable than when he went to sleep. The previous night, he had draped himself over Spain's neck like a living, fluffy scarf. And now there was something sharp pressing into his belly and his paws were cold and hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Mm, gatito, you're suffocating me," A hand came up and tried to push him away. And failed. Spain opened his eyes, blinked, and looked again. "Roma? Not that I'm complaining about being woken like this, and it's really nice to see you, but have you seen my cat?"

Romano opened his own eyes and looked down at his paws. His _hands_. His _hands_ with _**fingers**_.

"Holy shit I'm back! And I _was_ your damn cat, idiot!"

"...What?"

"And _oh my god, you were going to_ _ **cut**_ _my_ _ **balls**_ _off!_ "

"Romano?"

" _You_ are in _such_ deep shit!"

…...

For weeks afterwards, Romano still had the tendency to purr. Which his _loving_ younger brother took gleeful advantage of.

The little shit.


End file.
